


Do Not Use Spirit Boards to Conjure a Boyfriend: A Cautionary Tale

by HanzobarMoustache



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - High School, Background Genji Shimada/Tekhartha Zenyatta - Freeform, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Ghost Jesse, M/M, slow burn?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-02-28 03:10:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13262379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanzobarMoustache/pseuds/HanzobarMoustache
Summary: Genji brought home a spirit board, and Hanzo agrees to play with it so he can get back to his homework. He gets more than he bargained for.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a silly thing I started working on for reasons unknown. I don't know if I'll ever actually finish it.

Hanzo was going to kill him. He glared now, arms crossed, lips turned into a scowl, but Genji simply wasn't taking the hint and continued to prattle on incessantly. The elder brother nearly snapped his pencil in two, growling, "Genji, I will not play with your spirit board. This is foolish."

Genji rolled his eyes, flopping onto the floor and placing the intricate item on the ground anyway. He traced the carefully formed letters in the board where the dark lacquer dipped slightly. "Oh, come on. Just a bit?"

"No. We both know you have better things to do than this." Hanzo leaned down and snatched the planchette from Genji's hand before his green-haired brother could slap it down on the board.

"Hanzooo," Genji whined, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout when his brother ignored his whining and tucked the planchette into the far corner of his desk out of Genji's reach.

"No. Save conversing with spirits until after you have finished your geometry." Hanzo smiled gently, picking up his pencil once more to work on his own homework assignments. Calculus was far more interesting than speaking with the dead anyway. He bit his lip and thought for a moment to recall the correct formula for a particularly hideous story problem, only slightly concerned with the conversation.

"You know I need help with that stupid stuff. Coordinate systems are kicking my ass." Genji frowned, kicking at the leg of Hanzo's desk chair. "Please? The number one rule of this thing is that you don't use it alone. C'mon, do you want me to be possessed by a demon?"

"If it would do your schoolwork and the dishes, I would not mind entirely," Hanzo mused. He flipped his pencil around to erase a mistake before brushing the eraser shavings away.

"Tch, why did I expect my brother to care about me? All Hanzo cares about is his stupid grades. All Hanzo cares about is making sure no one can touch his perfect GPA." Genji paused for a moment, scowling and crossing his arms. He spoke louder, nearly shouting, "All nīsan cares about is-!"

"Must you be so disruptive?" Hanzo complained, exasperated.

"Must you ignore me in my time of need?" Genji complained, goaded on by his brother's frustration.

Hanzo sighed, circling the answer for the last problem on his paper. He placed the sheet in his textbook, closing it before stretching and glancing at the clock. Their father was out on a business trip and would not be returning until very early in the morning, but Hanzo wanted to reassure himself that their father would not be returning soon enough to witness his sons playing with a spirit board like children. It was only twelve after eleven, later than the two should be up on a school night but still well before the latest Hanzo had been awake on his worst cram nights. They had plenty of time.

He pushed himself away from his desk, spinning in his chair and facing his brother. "Fine. We can play-" Hanzo held up a finger when Genji nearly shot up in excitement "-but I will choose when we stop."

"That's fine, grab the planchette."

Hanzo reached over, grabbing the small item and rising to his feet. He stepped over his brother's legs and stared down at the board. "Where did you even get this?" Hanzo asked, sinking to the floor and extending a hand to brush against the board. Smooth, he thought, running his finger down the back of one of the dragons burned into the wood. It was unlike any spirit board Hanzo had seen in movies. Two dragons curled around the sides of the board, bodies twisted over a moon and sun, claws digging into the words 'Yes' and 'No' scrawled on the top of the board, tails crossed at the bottom beneath the word 'Goodbye'. 

"Pretty, right?" Genji preened, reaching forward to scratch at a bit of gold leaf that hadn't laid correctly on the left dragon's head. "Zenyatta and I made it together last week."

Hanzo bit his tongue. The mention of the transfer student was enough. Zenyatta, Genji's latest romantic interest after his angelic cheerleader had left him for the star football player, was a bit odd in the simplest terms. Hanzo was convinced the boy was, in fact, a witch of some manner. Genji denied this whenever Hanzo so much as looked like he thought about it, but Hanzo was not convinced. "Would you care to explain why you made a spirit board with your friend?"

"It's only normal to prepare to commune with the dead on the- " Genji ticked off his fingers as he counted silently "-fifteenth date." He shuffled around his own pockets, producing a spoon from his sweatshirt pocket and placing it on the board.

"Genji?"

"Yes?" Genji's eyebrow cocked in the way it always did when he'd been asked a question he hadn't expected, as if this behavior was absolutely normal.

"Did you-?" Hanzo took a moment to form a proper sentence, "Genji, why did you just put a spoon on the board?"

Genji shrugged, scooting the spoon to the center and positioning it so that it didn't cover too many letters. "It's a rule of this sort of thing."

"To place a spoon on the board?" Hanzo was quickly regretting agreeing to this foolish behavior; he could already feel the headache forming.

"Uh, no?" Genji scoffed and scooted closer to the board. "It's a rule that you should put silver on the board to ward away evil spirits and demons."

"I imagine Zenyatta told you these rules."

"Nah, I Googled them. He wouldn't tell me anything because he said it's too dangerous to talk to spirits with just a board and good intentions."

"Then perhaps we should not-."

"You already said yes! Do you dare cross your own word?"

"Genji."

"Look, it's all bologna anyway. So who cares? It's perfectly safe. C'moonnnn," he whined again.

Hanzo huffed, "Fine, just shut up. Are there any other rules? Should we... light a candle or something? This atmosphere isn't exactly..." Hanzo waved his hand in the air as he searched for the words to describe how his room in this California house didn't seem mystical enough for contacting the dead. His bedroom was simply too tidy, too clean, too bright with its cobalt blue bedspread and white walls. It was nothing like the abandoned factories or dilapidated shacks in the middle of the woods that teenagers in horror movies would sit within before pulling out a cardboard spirit board and speaking with a demon that would then kill at least one of them by tearing their body in two from the inside out.

Hanzo shivered despite himself, convinced he needed to lay off Amélie's ridiculous horror flicks.

Genji clicked his tongue, pulling Hanzo from his thoughts, "I don't think lighting a candle would hurt anything. Just hurry it up already, I'm getting bored." Genji grumbled as Hanzo left his side momentarily to sort through his candle collection.

"Honey lavender or mandarin cranberry?"

"You got séance spring water?"

"Vanilla bourbon it is." Hanzo took the candle in hand, bringing it back and placing it on the floor next to his brother. 

Genji tapped at the glass of the candle, peeling at the label and humming until Hanzo cleared his throat. "Eh?" 

"Light it already."

"What? You think that I have a lighter on me?"

"You've been hanging out with Jamison. I know you have a lighter on your person."

"Ugh, fine... you're not going to tell father, are you?"

Hanzo shook his head, "What he does not need to know will not kill him. Just don't let him smell it on you."

"Hmm... sometimes you're alright." Genji slipped a lighter, some sort of Australian swear written on the side of it in Sharpie, out of his pocket. He didn't pick up the candle, choosing instead to hold the lighter at an awkward angle that burned the wick and his thumb. He sucked on the burn, tucking the lighter back into his pocket with his other hand and speaking without taking his thumb out of his mouth, "Ish the mewd yight yet?"

Hanzo flicked off the overhead lights, leaving his desk lamp on as it was somewhat dim. Small shafts of moonlight fell through his curtains, mingling with the bars of artificial light streaming into the room from beneath the door leading into the hall, dancing with the shadows thrown from the candle's fickle flame. It was quiet, relatively dark, and definitely far too late. "It will do."

"Cool! C'mon, let's do this."

Hanzo rolled his eyes, kneeling next to his brother and putting the planchette on the board regardless. Genji, excited, slapped his hand on the item hard enough to shake the board. He snickered slightly before falling silent.

"So..." He drew the word out, curling his toes until the joints popped.

"So?" Hanzo inquired.

"This is kind of awkward."

"I am growing impatient, Genji."

"Jerk." Genji cleared his throat, and Hanzo had to hold back a grin from how absolutely seriously his brother began to take the situation. "Hello. My brother and I are wanting to contact a spirit. If anyone is out there and wishes to talk, we are here."

Hanzo bit his tongue, watching his brother's arm for any sign, any miniscule movement to call him out on when he would inevitably move the planchette. They were both quiet for nearly a minute, breathing softly, fingers poised on the small wooden planchette, jaws tight in anticipation. Hanzo chided himself when the candle's flame flickered and he just about jumped.

He released a sigh when it was clear that this was pointless, voicing his distaste for the activity, "This is ridiculous."

"Shh! Give it a minute. They're the dead. Do you really expect them to be quick about it?"

"You should have asked Zenyatta about this if you were so adamant about it."

"I told you! He hates this stuff," Genji growled. "Why don't you ask, oh wise sage Hanzo. Maybe we just have some old crone that doesn't want to talk to such a strapping young lad as I... Won't hurt anything, right?"  
Hanzo scowled, licking his lips and staring down at the planchette because he felt silly. "Excuse me, spirits. Is there anyone here that would be willing to convene with us? Please, we would love to speak with you."

The planchette jolted like someone else had placed their fingers atop it, but Hanzo had not seen Genji so much as twitch. It then began to move, scratching against the wood. Genji tracked the letters, "H. O. W. D. Y."

"Howdy," Hanzo echoed, deadpan. "Genji, I must admit, this was quite the setup for one of your jokes."

"I would totally love for this to be a jab at your stupid cowboy fascination, but I swear I'm not moving it!" Genji hissed, watching the planchette shift beneath their fingers. He bounced nearly frantically at the message. "'I can go.' No, no, no! You just got here! We want to talk to you! What's your name?"

The planchette slowed slightly, sliding over the board. "Jesse," the planchette spelled.

"Hello, Jesse. Are you a man or a woman?" At Genji's question, the planchette turned to the M on the board. "Alright, how old are you, Jesse? Er, I mean, how old were you when you died?"

Hanzo felt a shiver run up his spine when the planchette turned to the one and then the eight on the board. "Oh, yeah?" Genji mused, tilting his head slightly as he did when thinking, "Hanzo's eighteen, too... This is so cool. Jesse, what did you do when you were alive?"

"It depended." The planchette moved smoothly now, as if calming down. "I had three different jobs."

"What were they? In order, please."

"Outlaw. Cowboy. Vigilante."

Hanzo hummed slightly, casting a side-long glance at his brother. To his credit, Genji was keeping up the act of taking this completely seriously. Hanzo supposed that particular task was made simpler by the fact that Genji merely needed to watch the board and exclaim at the 'messages' they received. The elder brother spoke, "That is quite the leap. How did you turn from outlaw to the man bringing justice to outlaws?"  
The planchette was stagnant for a moment, but it did eventually begin flitting across the board like the gaze of a liar. "Long story."

"That's fine. You don't have to tell us," Genji interjected, tapping his finger once on the planchette. This was new for him, waiting so long to get to the punch of his pranks. He was no stranger for an extensive set-up (Hanzo's ears still burned as he thought of the weeks Genji had spent slowly tightening the string of his bow until he slacked it back to its normal draw. It had not been pretty.), but he was too impatient for this. His act was beginning to crack, "Ugh, this is boring. How'd you die?"

The planchette jerked as if an anxious hand was pressed against it.

"Genji!" Hanzo hissed, having a bit too much fun with his own performance. But, to be fair, Genji brought this upon himself. Hanzo was going to milk this for all it was worth. "That is rude!"

"He's dead!" 

"That is no reason to be insensitive!"

The planchette stuttered forward faster than before. "It is fine. Yes. I was killed in 1875. But I do not want to talk about it."

Genji went pale, convinced that he felt something touch him. His head snapped up from the board to look at his brother. "Hanzo, we should stop. This isn't funny anymore."

"We have made Jesse uncomfortable, that is all. We are sorry, Jesse. Would you like to talk about something else?"

"Hanzo, stop it, you made your point. I'm not gonna prank you like this again. This is freaking me out." Genji took his hands away from the board, and Hanzo involuntarily flinched as if the motion would physically pain him. He felt nothing.

"Genji, I am not messing with you. Please-."

"I'm going to bed. You could just say no next time, you know." Genji sulked, stalking off quickly. He slammed the door behind himself, the motion blowing out the candle. His heavy, angry footfalls could be heard retreating to his room.

Hanzo sighed, staring at the board where his fingers still rested on the planchette. He took a breath, resolving to apologize to Genji first thing in the morning even though he didn't do anything. He scratched at his jaw, idly wondering what had created the persona of Jesse. He supposed that his interest with the old west could have subconsciously influenced his hand, but he swore that his hand was guided by more than that. Perhaps, though, it was merely his imagination. He began to lift his fingers from the planchette when it began to drift beneath his fingers and the candle lit itself.

Hanzo's eyes fell to the board, catching the message, "Do you still want to talk?"

"I-." Hanzo had never discredited the supernatural. He enjoyed ghost stories and tall tales, as childish as they were, but he had never thought that spirit boards were anything more than jokes. Nothing more but a set piece in movies. Nothing more than the focal point of a story told over a campfire. Risking feeling like a fool, he spoke quietly enough that his brother would not hear him, "I apologize for Genji."

The planchette moved with a bit more spark, a bit more personality, words blending into a more distinct accent, "It ain't your fault."

"Even so, it... I suppose you are right." Hanzo felt a wave of tingling sensation starting at his knee. He glanced up as if he would see a presence, but he could only see his empty room. He reached for the throw on his bed without moving his hand on the planchette; he was convinced that the temperature in the room had dropped tremendously. He spoke as he curled the small blanket around himself, "Was that you, Jesse?"

"Yeah. I scooted closer. Sorry."

"It is fine. It merely caught me off guard." Hanzo found himself smiling, "Would you tell me why you're speaking to me?"

"Being dead gets awful lonely. Plus, you're cute."

Hanzo paused, and he swore the planchette jiggled as if it was laughing. "Thank you?" He wasn't sure what to say for a moment, unaccustomed to ghosts flirting with him (as anyone would be). "Hm, what would you like to talk about, Jesse?"

"You."

"I am not so interesting, but I suppose we could arrange something. Let's say I ask you a question and you can ask me one once you have answered. Does that sound agreeable, Jesse?"

"Yes."

Hanzo's grin was cut short when he heard his father's car pull into the garage. He muttered a curse beneath his breath. "We will have to do so later. My father is home and-."

"I know. Can I speak with you again?" The door downstairs opened, but Hanzo had to watch the planchette move.

"Yes, please. Will you be able to come back?" He spoke too quickly, heart beating in his ears in time with his father's steps on the stairs.

"Yes. Sweet dreams. Goodbye."

"Goodbye." Hanzo lifted his hand from the planchette at last, smiling fondly at the board. Familiar tingles crept down his hand before the candle wick snuffed out and the room's temperature evened. Though he had not noticed before, Hanzo felt as if it was also easier to inhale, as if something had been in the air heavy enough to hamper his breathing.

He shook his head and quickly put the board away, turning off his desk light and crawling into bed quickly while his father passed by his door. His father poked his head into Hanzo's room, tsking the boy softly and chiding him for forgetting to turn off the hall light before falling asleep. Hanzo focused on his breathing, even, not too deep and not too shallow. 

The door closed, and Hanzo allowed himself to release a breath. A coolness ran up his arm, and he muffled a laugh with his pillow, pulling his blankets up over himself. "Goodnight, Jesse," he whispered; the chill disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

Genji flopped onto the couch in the lounge with a dramatic sigh, throwing his hand over his forehead as an extra flair. Hana and Lúcio shared a snicker as Zenyatta patted his boyfriend's shoulder. "Remind me to kill Hanzo tonight," the brother muttered.

It wasn't unusual for Genji to come into the student lounge complaining about this that or the other in the morning, yammering about whatever had happened the previous night or weekend to whoever was willing to listen. Usually, it was Hana, Lúcio, and Jamie, but Zenyatta and Lena had been making it a habit to show up in the morning before classes. Today it was the usual crowd sans Lena - Lúcio claimed she was out at the track trying to break her record for the hundred meter again.

"What'd he do this time?" Hana asked, popping her gum and continuing to paint Jamie's nails while he fumbled to finish some chemistry homework.

"Aside from being his usual ass-self," Genji's statement made Jamie snort and screw up his writing, "he used a prank against me!"

"What do you mean he used it against you? Does Hanzo have a funny bone now?" Lúcio tossed a granola bar to Genji, earning a slight smile that reached Genji's sleep-sunken eyes.

"Thanks, dude." Genji unwrapped the bar and took a large bite, speaking while he chewed, "So, you guys know that spirit board Zenyatta and I made?"

"The neat one with the dragons all swirlin' around it, yeah?" Jamie had forgotten about his work, having shoved it back into his bag haphazardly in favor of an interesting story.

"Mhmm." Genji nearly choked on the granola as he sat up, "I was going to mess with it, creep him out with a fake ghost, but then he starts acting like there's really something there! Like a legit cowboy named Jesse that died at eighteen. He shook the planchette like it was a demon or something, but he just wouldn't give up the act. It gave me nightmares about duels and high noon and spurs." Genji shuddered, rubbing his eyes and leaning into Zenyatta's side.

"Nightmares, hmm?" Zenyatta mused, carefully fixing Genji's hair. (He was not _petting_ him, should any teacher be asking.)

"Mmhmm. This is worse than that weekend Jamie and I spent at the wharf."

Jamie stuck out his tongue slightly, biting it as he did when he thought. "Helluva weekend, that. Last night really that bad?"

"Well, okay, maybe not quite as bad but certainly not a good time."

Hana piped up, snickering. "Oh, yeah, your brother's all enamored with cowboys, right? Jesse McCree's like a local legend so it makes sense Hanzo would find out about the 'bisexual bounty hunter.'" She screwed the cap back onto the nail polish, tossing it into her bag and pulling out her gameboy. She kicked back, using Lúcio's legs as a footrest. "I don't really get that nickname, though."

"Yeah, he didn't really hunt down bounties, did he? Unless it was for that gang he was once a part of. The local law didn't really like him." Lúcio mused, snatching Hana's eyeliner to do a quick cat eye. He glared at her when she went to complain, pointing to where her ankles were crossed over his knees until she relented and turned back to her screen.

"Nah. He was too busy blowin' up barns. _Pchew_!"

"Thank you for the sound effects, Jamison. And it was _one barn_." Hana explained, having tossed her gameboy to the side in favor of finding her phone to look it up. Her thumbs worked quickly as she scoured the internet and found a decent source, "No, I guess he took bounties... but mostly just to pay off his own and keep the law off his back."

"Still bi, though?"

"Oh, yeah, totally. Check out this list of lovers." Hana handed over her phone.

Lúcio whistled, eyebrows raising as he looked it over, "Cowboy got around."

Genji  balled up the granola wrapper, tossing it over his shoulder and smiling when Jamie made little hurrahs as it landed in the trash basket. "A cowboy that would have been interested in Hanzo, huh? Do you know what he looked like? I need this information now, for embarrassment purposes obviously."

"Actually kinda cute." Hana popped her gum, plucking her phone back from Lúcio and scrolling through a blog dedicated to the legend, tapping on a picture and holding it up for the guys to see.

"That hat's terrible." Jamie scowled.

"No, no, that's perfect! He's _so_ Hanzo's type." Genji leaned forward, squinting at the screen with a smile. "Are there more pictures than just the mugshot?"

"A couple, but not many. Here's one with him shaking Morrison's great-great-something-grandpa."

"Dude, it looks _just like_ Morrison, except without the scar. You'd think it'd be the other way around. Did we ever figure out why he has a scar?"

"Lúcio, we kept with that theory he scorned a lover, remember? Anyway, there's not too many pictures here with a good shot of his face. One with his three cowboy dads... An artistic rendition of his Deadlock days... Some with his lovers..."

Genji hummed, watching over Hana's shoulder as she scrolled through the photos, "Can you send me those? I have an idea on how to get him back for this one."

 

* * *

 

 

Hanzo felt foolish as he dug through another blog dedicated the wild west looking for any mention of a Jesse that had died at eighteen. As it turned out, he was having no luck finding any Jesse that did not have the last name of James. Search results be damned, he was going to find this cowboy. He grit his teeth and entered a new phrase into the search bar and returned to a directory.

A hand dropped on his shoulder, and he glanced up from the school's computer. The librarian, an older woman with a habit of handing out little strawberry candies, Ana Amari, appeared concerned. Her forehead creased with worry. "Are you having trouble? You have been glaring at the screen for half an hour."

"I-yes." He would have lied, but Ana was notorious in the school for finding the truth. She'd riddled it out of Genji quite a few times when Principal Morrison hadn't been able to, so Hanzo didn't want to go through that whole fiasco.

"Would you like some help?"

"If it is not too much trouble."

Ana pulled a chair over, sitting down beside the youth and picking up his page of notes that had been hastily scribbled in Japanese. She stared at them a moment, as if deciphering them. She set them back down, smoothing a crease in the margin, "I can't read this."

Hanzo held back a snort, "I am trying to find an individual, but this name is similar to someone else's which is causing me difficulties."

"Is this for a project? You don't look the type." She motioned to the screen, webpage garishly decorated with a rope trim and a bullet-hole-shaped cursor.

"A project of a sort. I only have this man's first name, but he was a cowboy and outlaw as far as my slight knowledge goes. His name is Jesse... but without a last name all I am pulling up is Jesse James."

"Was he from around here?" Ana asked, tapping at her chin as she stared at the computer monitor. "There was a boy, Jesse McCree, that grew up and died here before he hit twenty."

 _Jesse McCree? It is a start if nothing else. I should have asked for his full name._ Hanzo thought before speaking, "I think that may have been his name, but I am unsure."

"Hmm... Let me at that keyboard." Hanzo scooted a bit, pushing the keyboard closer to the woman so she could tap away at it. "Where'd you hear about Jesse? He's more of a local legend. Fareeha was crazy about him when she was younger, did a whole project over him when she was ten. I think I might still have it..."

Hanzo deflected easily, "Genji mentioned him, and I have always found cowboys interesting. It is a personal project."

Ana nodded. "It's such a sad story, though I'm glad to see people still talking about it."

"Do you know anything off hand?"

"Jesse McCree was a character alright, far more than the caricature of a cowboy most people reduce him to. Born to a Navajo mother and a prospecting father in New Mexico, he grew up without both. His mother was killed in a raid, and his father brought him here to California where he then died in a mining accident. Jesse was raised for a while by a cowboy troupe, becoming trilingual and mastering the lasso, revolver, and his silver tongue. He ran with them for a few years, handling the cows until the Deadlock gang tried their hand at robbing the cowboys."

Ana scowled at the computer, backing out of a page that was just an advertisement for a terrible western film. She continued speaking as she tried another web search, "They attacked with seven men, and only one survived because Jesse carried a six-shooter. It was a standoff, Jesse against the last Deadlock. He won, technically, but he didn't kill the man. Pleased with his aim, the man offered him a place in the gang. With his only family dead and many of the cows full of bullet holes, Jesse couldn't exactly return to his job, so he felt the gang was his only choice. He fit in well enough, climbed the ranks easily thanks to his particular skills, neared the top and only had second thoughts when he was asked to burn down a ranch house with a family of five - including three children - inside. He refused, had the gang try for his life, lost his arm and ran. He dropped the gang and started helping the common law-abiding folk as a vigilante." She bit her lip as if trying to recall something before beginning to type directly into the address bar. "He ended up destroying the gang at the cost of his own life. A shame that most are concerned with his good looks and romantic exploits... Ah-ha! Here we are!"

Hanzo stared at the page.  Though it was much more tasteful than the previous pages he had been looking at, there was no gaudy rope trim in sight, Hanzo wasn't sure if he could trust it. "Another blog?"

"A _reputable_ one," Ana spoke as she scrolled down and pressed her finger to a list of sources in the margin, "I cited my sources."

Hanzo smiled skeptically, "Wait, this is _your_ blog?"

"Was," she corrected. "I made this in college. It's a wonder it's still here. Some links are probably dead, but it should be enough to get you started. You may need to hunt down some of these books and articles from the public library, but that shouldn't prove to be too difficult."

"Thank you, Ms. Amari."

"You're welcome." Ana took to her feet, stretching slightly and moving on. "I could probably even track down that project of Fareeha's if you would like."

"Thank you, but I could not ask that of you."

"Might be a nice display anyway... Ah, but don't mind me. Good luck on your project, Hanzo."

"Thank you." Hanzo turned back to the screen as she walked off to shout at a pair of girls necking in the fiction section. He chewed on his lip as he scrolled through the blog, making a note of the domain name for future research. It was surprisingly informative, eloquent and stylish. Ana should have turned Jesse's story into a novel. Hanzo clicked through the site, attention caught by a small link to a photo gallery.

Hanzo clicked. Most of the pictures were of the Deadlock gang, areas where Jesse would have been around his life, a few stills of his favored haunts. Most were underwhelming, but Hanzo paused when the screen showed a copy of a wanted poster complete with a sketch of the man, a bandana over his mouth and a mask over his eyes. They were warm, clever, mischievous, dangerous but good-natured. Hanzo felt as if the sketch of the man was about to wink at him. The poster asked for 'Deadeye' and the subtitle of the picture explained that this was Jesse's nom de guerre.

Hanzo printed the picture and tucked it into his bag, turning out of the library as the bell rang for sixth period.


End file.
